


the man behind the curtain

by black_queen (hotch_fan)



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Additional Father Figure, Adorkable Little Bruce, Angst, Awkward but Lovable Alfred, Bedtime Stories, Canon Backstory, Canon Compliant, Car Conversations, Childhood, Cross-Generational Friendship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Family Bonding, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Fundraisers, Gen, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Humor, Kid Bruce Wayne, Kid Fic, Minor Injuries, Nightmares, One Shot Collection, Parties, Pre-Canon, Storms, Trick or Treating, Young Bruce Wayne
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-18 02:52:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotch_fan/pseuds/black_queen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even before the death of Martha and Thomas Wayne, there were times when Alfred had to go above and beyond a butler's duty when dealing with a young Bruce Wayne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. storm

**Author's Note:**

> First of all I feel like I need to point out I'm not trying to portray the Waynes as bad or negligent parents. Not at all. But they both were _very_ important and busy people --especially Thomas-- so I think there must have been times when they just couldn't be there for young Bruce and Alfred stepped in. Because I think Alfred and Bruce must have gotten along pretty well even then for the Waynes to leave their son's care entrusted to him, even if _they_ did trust him.

Alfred walked quietly through the hallway, making his usual inspection around the Manor before retiring to rest for the night.  
   
The whole staff had left for the day hours ago, leaving the Manor in an absolute silence, broken only by the gentle noise of the rain hitting against the window panes.  
   
Martha Wayne had put his son to bed almost half an hour past the boy's usual bedtime today, having consented to the young boy's request to wait for his father's return. It hadn't been until Thomas Wayne had called and talked with his son for a few minutes that Master Bruce had sullenly allowed his mother to lead him upstairs and to his bedroom.  
   
Closing the door of the library softly behind himself, Alfred turned around and walked across the hall to the main study; his footsteps muted by the thick carpet.  
   
With the young Master tucked into bed, Mrs. Wayne and Alfred had exploited the quietness to tidy up a few details for the upcoming charity fundraiser that would be hosted at Wayne Manor two weeks from now. She bidden him good night after things were taken care of and had retired upstairs.  
   
That had been little over an hour ago.  
   
The first thing that caught Alfred's attention when he pulled the door of the study open was the soft light coming from the desk lamp, which was turned on only when Mr. Wayne was working in his study. It took Alfred's eyes only a second to be drawn to the small figure barely visible under the large mahogany desk.  
   
"Master Bruce?"  
   
There was a soft sigh, followed by some shifting under the desk and then Alfred caught a glimpse of hazel eyes in the space between the two visitor chairs.  
   
"Hi, Alfred."  
   
The butler reached for the light switch to his right and turned it on, filling the room with a soft yellow light causing the small figure tucked under the desk to become more visible.  
   
"What are you doing here, sir?" Alfred inquired softly, walking further into the room.  
   
Bruce ducked his head slightly, brushing away a strand of dark brown hair that had fallen over his forehead with his right hand. "I couldn't sleep."  
   
Alfred pressed his lips together, lowering himself into one of the chairs to better face the young boy.  
   
"How long have you been here, Master Bruce?"  
   
Arms wrapped loosely around his legs, Bruce shrugged. "I don't know."  
   
Alfred looked down at the boy, his brow furrowed in consternation. Had the young Master come down here right after his mother had put him to bed? No. Surely Mrs. Wayne had looked upon the boy when she had retired upstairs.  
   
Bruce shifted under Alfred's gaze, hugging the stuffed bear he had brought with him closer. "The thunder woke me up and I couldn't go back to sleep."  
   
"Yes. It was a rather loud storm, sir."  
   
Alfred remained silent after that, allowing the young Master to talk further of his own accord.  
   
"I thought-" Bruce bit his lip, diverting his eyes away from Alfred's and before speaking softly. "I thought I could stay here and wait for Father to come home."  
   
Alfred suppressed a sigh, lest the perceptive young boy in front of him interpreted the act wrongfully. It was times such as these, when young Master Bruce sought his father's presence and comfort when the butler wished foolishly Mister Wayne were not the fine and capable busy man he was.  
   
"I'm afraid your father wouldn't be home in the nearest future, Master Bruce."  
   
"I know." The boy whispered, ducking his head. "I just couldn't go back to sleep by myself."  
   
"Sir, I dare say your mother would have-"  
   
"No." Bruce gave Alfred a sheepish look for the interruption and a quiet murmured apologize. "When I couldn't sleep I went to Mother and Father's bedroom but Mother was already asleep. I didn't want to wake her so I came down here."  
   
"I understand that, young sir, but you must also understand I cannot allow you to remain here at this late hour." Alfred paused for a moment, rising from the chair. "You must come out of there now, sir."  
   
Bruce slowly crawled out from under the desk after a moment, stuffed bear clutched in one of his small hands.  
   
The corner of Alfred's mouth twitched at the sight of the stuffed toy. The very first one purchased after Master Bruce’s parents learned they would have a child. And still one of the young boy's favorites.  
   
Bruce stood awkwardly in front of Alfred, his small form clad in light blue pajamas and bouncing on the balls of his feet.  
   
"Come young sir, it is time to go back to bed." After a moment's hesitation, Alfred held out his hand for the young boy to take.  
   
Bruce stood still for a second, blinking at the outstretched hand before hurrying to take it. He carefully kept his gaze down and away from Afred's.  
   
The small hand was cold against his own, prompting the butler to give it a soft squeeze.  
   
Bruce tightened his grip on Alfred's hand the more they approached the staircase, making the butler turn to look at the top of the boy's dark head. It wasn't at all difficult to imagine what had brought the small gesture.  
   
Alfred cleared his throat. "I shall now escort you up to your room. If you don't mind, sir."  
   
"I- No. I- I don't mind. Thank you, Alfred." Bruce mumbled, his stance dropping considerably.  
   
Bruce didn't let go of Alfred's hand until they came into his bedroom and the butler prompted him to climb into bed, tucking him in and tidying up the comforter on the bed as much as it was possible around the small body.  
   
Alfred was about to bid the young boy good night when the sound of his name called from the bed in a soft voice stopped him.  
   
"Yes, Master Bruce?"  
   
"Can you-" Bruce stopped abruptly, running his fingers over the soft fabric of the comforter, eyes downcast. "Would you mind reading me some? It- It helps me fall asleep."  
   
The hesitant and quiet request took Alfred by surprise, leaving him momentarily at a loss for words.  
  
Master Bruce had a natural love for books, even when at his young age his reading skills were still developing and, therefore, bedtime stories were highly special for him. It was usually his mother who read to him, and his father, on the few occasions he came home early. Ever since the boy had turned three years old, not even Mrs. Crawford --who had been Master Bruce's care provider since his birth and until only a few years ago-- had been accepted by the young boy as the narrator of his beloved bedtime stories.  
   
And so Alfred took a moment to cover his surprise before walking closer to the bed.  
   
"Certainly, sir."  
   
The little shy smile he received from the young boy was enough to pull a small, honest smile of his own in reply.  
   
He took the book lying on the bedside table carefully, sitting down on the edge of the bed after a second of hesitation and started reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. I have zero acknowledge of British vocabulary (And let's be honest, my English isn't anywhere near perfect either. Non-native speaker here *waves*), let alone any clue of how a gentleman's gentleman must conduct himself other than what I've seen in the movies, so if you think my characterization of Alfred was total trash or have any piece of advice please, _please_ let me know so I can avoid further embarrassment and improve it or better stop trying to write Alfred. He's too awesome to be written badly :P
> 
> I already have a couple of ideas so please let me know if you'd like to read more and feel free to suggest prompts too. If I can come up with something good for them, I will write them :)
> 
> Also, this is unbetaed so please feel free to point out any mistake.


	2. school play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for the comment and kudos in the previous chapter!

Alfred glanced at the rear view mirror, watching the small boy sitting in the back seat of the car looking through the window. A small frown was set on his young face, lips pressed together.  
   
"Is something wrong, Master Bruce?"  
   
Bruce turned his gaze in the butler's direction, lip caught between his teeth. He hesitated for a moment before shaking his head, letting Alfred know something was indeed bothering the young sir.  
   
Alfred nodded curtly knowing the young boy would talk if he truly wanted to, when he were ready. He just had to be patient.  
   
They traveled in silence for more than ten minutes before Bruce spoke again.  
   
"The school play is in a week."  
   
"Certainly, sir." Alfred said after a moment, uncertain of what exactly had brought this up. "Are you nervous, perhaps?"  
   
Dark brown hair flopped over Bruce's face as he shook his head. "Not really. I already know my lines and Rachel's been helping me practice them and the songs so I don't forget."  
   
A small. fleeting smile curled up the corners of Alfred's mouth. Every single person at Wayne Manor was aware of that, and had most likely learned Master Bruce's short lines and the cheerful Christmas songs too. Both children --Miss Rachel in particular-- had taken upon themselves to practice rather loudly all around the Manor ever since the young Master had received the lines and lyrics of the traditional holiday songs for the small school play.  
   
It had not been so much a game as a requirement to ensure perfection for Master Bruce, even if Miss Rachel had made it so.  
   
The car fell silent as Bruce chewed his lower lip, fiddling with the sleeve of his jacket.  
   
"What if-" Bruce looked away from Alfred, even though the butler wasn't looking at him. At least not directly. "What if Mother and Father can't be there?"  
   
The words were spoken in a small soft voice but Alfred heard them nevertheless.  
   
Gentle and polite words of reassurance will not be of any aid to the young boy, Alfred knew it by prior attempts. Even at his young age, Master Bruce had learned quite some time ago that his parents were essential pillars of Gotham society, even if to him, that principally meant his parents sometimes were absent.  
   
"Sir, I assure you your parents will do everything they can to be there."  
   
"I _know_ that." Bruce stated, voice steady as he met Alfred's gaze through the rearview mirror. "But what if Father gets called away because there's an emergency at the hospital, and Aunt Elizabeth gets sick again and Mother had to go take care of her again or something?"  
   
All Alfred could do was blink for a moment, stunned into silence by the boy's words.  
   
"It is highly unlikely both your parents would be unable to attend, young sir."  
   
Bruce shook his head adamantly. "That doesn't mean it can't happen." Hazel eyes softened, an uncertain glint in them. "There's gonna be lots of people in the school auditorium that day. Strange people."  
   
Alfred waited patiently, knowing he was close to learning what the real issue was.  
   
Bruce bit his lips again. "What if I get nervous and forget my lines? Mother and Father will be disappointed when they know."  
   
"I can assure you, Master Bruce, they will do _no such_ thing." Alfred said vehemently, meeting briefly the boy's gaze with honest confidence.  
   
Bruce dropped his gaze, having not been reassured by Alfred's words in the least.  
   
"I dare say you know young Mister Elliot's parents, sir." Alfred tried again after a moment, before adding almost at once, "Or are they not planning to attend?"  
   
"Tommy's mother is going I think, but she's..." Bruce trailed off. His lips twitched into a slight grimace as he caught himself before saying something impolitic. "I don't think that would help, Alfred. She's kind of frightening."  
   
The corners of the butler's lips twitched when he heard the quite suitable adjective, mentally applying it to Mr. Elliot too.  
   
The Elliot family was a peculiar one, indeed.  
   
"I see."  
   
Bruce was staring at the back of the butler's head with curious hazel eyes and his head tilted to the side.  
   
Alfred considered what he was thinking very carefully before he spoke, meeting the young boy's gaze through the rearview mirror as the car come to a stop at a red light.  
   
"If I may be so bold, sir. I am certain your parents _will_ assist. And if any inconvenience were to occur, surely at least one of them would be present." The butler didn't miss the slight drop of small shoulders, but decided to ignore it in favor of concluding his argument. "But if you need further reassurance, sir, I can offer to attend if your mother and father cannot do so."  
   
The boy in the back seat had gone very still, shining hazel eyes blinking.  
   
"That is if you approve, of course sir."  
   
"You would?" Bruce shook his head lightly."Is not- I mean, wouldn't it be boring to you, Alfred?"  
   
Alfred allowed himself a small smile. "I don't imagine that will be a problem, young sir."  
   
"I would really like that, Alfred." Bruce said after a moment, before adding in a soft, quiet voice, "Thank you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter I needed Bruce to have a rich friend and after looking around I found Tommy Elliot. I don't have much knowledge of the comics, but found enough info to know he and his family were, as Alfred said above, _peculiar_. Anyway, he may be mentioned further ahead, but I don't think he would make an appearance, since I don't know the character well enough to write him. 
> 
> Also, I tried looking for extended family of the Waynes, but found nothing, so 'Aunt Elizabeth' was made up because I needed one plausible reason why Bruce's mother might not attend.
> 
> Again, this is unbetaed and I'm not native speaker so feel free to point out any mistake you find!


	3. broken vase

The library on the ground floor at Wayne Manor was a large and beautiful place. With large luxurious mahogany bookcases crammed with priceless and enthralling book editions and comfortable yet elegant furnishing. Large windows on the far wall allowed sunlight to filter into the room and give a magnificent view of the gardens.  
   
The library was a favorite of the Waynes --even young Master Bruce-- for a reason.  
   
With efficiency improved over the years, Alfred dusted the bookcase set to the left of the fireplace, enjoying the quiet of the room. He ran the black and white feather duster over one of the bottom shelf, all the while maintaining a critical eye to ensure the books were lined up neatly on the nearby shelves.  
   
Alfred could perceive the faint vanilla scent antique books tended to emit as he worked around the room.  
   
Finishing dusting the bookcase, the butler was about to move to the one on the right side of the fireplace when he heard a distinctive crashing sound just outside the library, followed by the sound of something shattering to pieces.  
   
Alfred straightened immediately, placing the duster he had been using over a nearby table before walking to the door with a quick pace, eyebrows drew down in consternation.  
   
The butler came to a stop just outside the library, surveying the scene before him.  
   
Young Master Bruce sat on the floor, just a couple of feet away from where Alfred stood. He was surrounded by small fragments of a now broken vase. The same vase that had decorated the hallway only minutes ago. Alfred's eyes narrowed when he took notice of the two rather thick books on the floor too.  
   
The butler was about to walk toward the boy when he caught a glimpse of one of the maids standing frozen at the end of the hallway, eyes wide and face pale. She met Alfred's eyes, her gaze almost frightened but she made no attempt to move.  
   
The staff of Wayne Manor counted with some of the most capable people in their respective areas, yet most of them struggled in some way when dealing with the young Wayne heir. Or perhaps, this time such reaction was due to the _very_ expensive shattered vase.  
   
Alfred nodded to the young woman to retire, which she did a little too quickly with an awkward bow and a relieved look. The butler turned and promptly walked toward the motionless child.  
   
"Master Bruce?" He called softly, watching down at the young Master, who did not acknowledge his presence as he stood before him, eyes lowered to the floor.  
   
Alfred crouched down, reaching a hand to place his fingers under the young boy's chin, gently lifting his head. "Are you alright, Master Bruce?"  
   
Soft hazel eyes blinked at him from under tousled dark brown hair, as if the small boy hadn't heard or understood the question.  
   
"Master Bruce," Alfred waited until some of the cloudy haze in the young boy's eyes began to fade before speaking. "Are you hurt, sir?"  
   
Bruce shook his head after a moment. His gaze dropped to the floor again, dark eyebrows knitted together as he looked at the small pieces of porcelain around him.  
   
"Come along, Master Bruce," The butler said gently a moment later, offering a hand to the boy on the floor. "You should not stay amid this mess or else you might hurt yourself."  
   
Bruce raised his head, looking at the outstretched hand and then up to Alfred's face. He chewed on his lip before finally reaching to grab it, avoiding Alfred's keen eyes.  
   
Alfred noticed the little red stain on the floor, just below the place where the young boy's hand had been. He took the small wrist gently, turning it over to look at the palm and found a small cut just above the wrist.  
   
"I thought you said you were not hurt, Master Bruce." Alfred said, a chiding note in his voice.  
   
Bruce looked down at the small cut on his hand, dark eyebrows knitted together. "I- I hadn't noticed it."  
   
The butler nodded, slowly raising himself and the young Master to their feet. "Very well. We shall treat the wound immediately, sir."  
   
Bruce was very careful not to step on any of the broken pieces of porcelain on the floor as Alfred took his uninjured hand and lead him away.  
   
Alfred guided him to the kitchens, feeling a peculiar sense of relief when he noticed the vast room was empty. He pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and urged Master Bruce to sit on it.  
   
"Stay here, young sir. I'll fetch the first aid kit."  
   
Bruce nodded, watching Alfred walk away. He bit his lip, stopping himself from swinging his dangling feet.  
   
It didn't take long for Alfred to come back, placing the first aid kit on the table and taking some of its content out. The butler called the small boy to come with him, pulling a chair over to the sink for him to stand on.  
   
"It does not seem to be any fragments in the wound." Alfred said after he examined the cut more closely. He then pulled the small hand under the faucet, rinsing it with clear, warm water and cleaning the area around the cut with soap.  
   
Bruce watched the process attentively, small dark eyebrows furrowed. It seemed to him like too much fuss for such small cut.  
   
Alfred helped him climb down from the chair after rinsing the soap away and patting the wound carefully dry, then proceeded to dry his own hands. Bruce stood to the side, watching as Alfred put the chair back in its place before putting a hand on his shoulder and leading him back to where he had sat.  
   
The butler took the nearest chair and sat down in it, facing the young boy. "Would you like to share what happened, sir?"  
   
Bruce nodded almost imperceptibly, shifting his hazel eyes away from Alfred's gaze. Sensing the boy's hesitation Alfred turned his attention away, reaching for the small jar he had placed on the table.  
   
"I- I was looking for you. I asked Mrs. Dawes and she told me you were working in the library."  
   
Alfred noticed the formality in the young boy's words --a sure sign of his apprehension-- but did not acknowledge it as he took the small hand, carefully applying a thin layer of antibiotic ointment.  
   
Bruce winced, looking down at his hand cradled between Alfred's. "That's when I remembered Father left some books in the den."  
   
"I see." Alfred said quietly, letting go of the boy's hand to take the gauze he had pulled out of the first aid kit.  
   
"I just wanted to take them to the library so you didn't have to go for them, but they were too heavy and one of them slipped down." Bruce kept his eyes on Alfred's hands as he finished his explanation. "I tried to catch it, but I didn’t see where I was going and bumped against the column with the vase in the hallway."  
   
It wasn't until Alfred finished dressing the wound with the gauze that he looked up, meeting worried eyes.  
   
"I understand your only intention was to aid me, Master Bruce, and I thank you for it. But I'm afraid your actions were ill-considered."  
   
It was obvious the young boy was forcing himself to meet his eyes, so Alfred softened his expression as he continued. "Sometimes our intentions are the best, Master Bruce, but our way of proceeding is not. _That_ is the reason we must always think very thoughtfully before acting. Or else things might go amiss like they did now."  
   
Alfred blinked, noticing the young boy's eyes filling with tears. Surely his words had not been too harsh... "Master Bruce?"  
   
Bruce sniffed softly, keeping the tears from falling. "Mom loved that vase. And I broke it." He whimpered as a lone tear escaped, making its way down his cheek. "She will be mad at me."  
   
Alfred allowed his lips to curve in a soft, fond smile. "Tell me Master Bruce, did you disobey your mother's order not to run inside the Manor?"  
   
It was Bruce's turn to blink. Confused, he shook his head in denial after a moment.  
   
"Were you playing when the incident took place, then?"  
   
Another nonverbal negative and Alfred gave the young boy a tiny, reassuring smile. "I cannot presume to know what Mrs. Wayne's reaction to this incident would be, Master Bruce, but considering the facts, I highly doubt she would find in good reason to be 'mad at you'. I'm sure your mother would be more concerned about your injury, instead."  
   
Bruce's eyebrows knitted together. "But I broke the vase."  
   
"Indeed you did, Master Bruce, but it was nothing more than an unfortunate accident. And while it may have been occasioned due to an error on your part, it is not entirely your fault." Alfred stressed his words, relieved the young boy seemed to be listening. "You were not breaking the house rules, but rather were trying to be helpful."  
   
Bruce still didn't seem entirely convinced but he nodded at Alfred's words, looking down at the small white dressing on his palm.  
   
Alfred nodded curtly, knowing there was nothing more he could do to ease the boy's apprehension. Only Mrs. Wayne could do that. He stood from the chair, starting to gather the supplies back into the first aid kit.  
   
"Alfred?" A small voice called making the butler raise his head, watching the young boy's bandaged hand lifted. "Thank you."  
   
"You are quite welcome, young sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait between chapters, but I had a bit of troubles with this. *sigh* I promise the next on would be up sooner, and would have Alfred and Bruce alone at the Manor, with Alfred struggling a bit to comfort Bruce, making for a very cute image, I think.
> 
> Any comments, corrections or constructive criticism would be very much appreciated, since as I'm sure you all know by now, this is unbetaed I'm not native speaker : )


	4. nightmare

Alfred turned yet another page in the book he was reading, sitting at the small desk by the window. At the moment, he was in the room young Master Bruce referred to as Alfred's, much to the butler's dismay.  
   
The room _did not_ belong to him, of course. Alfred's quarters were located far from the master and guest bedrooms. The bedroom he was currently in was the closest to the young Master's bedroom --in addition to the master bedroom, located on the other side of Master Bruce's-- as he had been assigned to do when Mrs. and Mr. Wayne had to leave the Manor after Master Bruce's bedtime.  
   
The bed was neatly made and untouched, just like it always stayed whenever Alfred used the room. The butler had never even sat on it, much less sleep as the Waynes had suggested more than a couple of times. Alfred had also been expressly told he wasn't expected to stay awake until the Waynes' return. That, of course, hadn't stopped him from doing so. He went down to meet them at the door every time and only then did he go back to his quarter and prepared to go to sleep.

That was how it supposed to be. It was his _duty_.  
   
The soft sound of the grandfather clock chiming midnight could be heard as Alfred placed a bookmark in between the pages before closing the book and placing it on the desk. Alfred stood up from the chair, straightening the jacket of his suit before walking to the tall windows overlooking the gardens and, further away, the driveway. He pulled away the curtain, looking through the window.  
   
Alfred was still standing there a few minutes later when he heard a small, muffled noise. The butler straightened, eyebrows drawn together as he moved away from the window. He was not sure what the sound had been, but he hurried to go to the room next door and ensure the young Master was well and asleep.  
   
The butler had just turned the knob, pulling the door of Master Bruce's room open, when he heard the noise again. A soft, muffled groan. Alfred stepped inside, the soft light coming from the hallway behind him providing enough light for him to watch the small form tossing under the covers. A small whisper escaped the young boy's mouth, prompting Alfred to continue his way to the boy's bedside.  
   
"Master Bruce." The butler called softly, shaking the small shoulder gently. The frown on the boy's face deepened further, but there was no other reaction. Alfred shook him more firmly. "Wake up, young sir."  
   
Bleary hazel eyes shot open and Bruce struggled to sit up breathing heavily, small legs tangled in the sheets.  
   
"It's all right, Master Bruce. You had a bad dream." Alfred hesitated only for a moment before reaching out to brush sweaty locks of dark hair away from the boy's forehead. He then proceeded to straighten the sheets. "You are awake now."  
   
Bruce rubbed his eyes with a hand, the other hugging the stuffed bear he had been sleeping with closer to his body as he sat up. "Where's Mom?"  
   
"I'm afraid your parents have not yet returned, sir." Bruce blinked confusedly at him, so Alfred added, "The fundraiser for the Police Department was taking place tonight. Do you remember?"  
   
Small, dark eyebrows knitted together and after a moment Bruce nodded, sighing softly and letting his shoulders slump slightly.  
   
Alfred straightened, shifting almost imperceptibly where he stood. He knew the young Master had nightmares occasionally, of course, but had not yet been in a position to act upon them, so he was at a loss as to what exactly he should do now.  
   
Bruce's breath had slowed down back to a normal rhythm as he sat quietly, stuffed bear still hugged close to his chest. Alfred cleared his throat, making him lift his eyes.  
   
"Perhaps you would like some warm milk, sir."  
   
Bruce blinked up at him. "Yes. Yes, please."  
   
Alfred refrained from sighing in relief, giving a curt nod instead. "Very well. I shall-"  
   
"Wait!"  
   
The shout stooped Alfred just as the butler had started to turn around to leave the room. He met wide hazel eyes from under tousled dark hair.  
   
"I... sorry. I just-" Bruce chewed his lower lip, gaze not quite meeting Alfred's. "Can I come with you? _Please._ "  
   
Alfred smiled kindly at the boy. "Of course you _may,_ Master Bruce."  
   
Bruce gave Alfred a tiny smile before swing his legs over the edge of the bed and slipping his feet into a pair of slippers. He stood, reaching back for the stuffed bear on the bed.  
   
The small boy came to stand beside him, reaching over and sliding his hand into Alfred's as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Closing his fingers around the small hand, the butler had to acknowledge to a certain fondness at the small gesture. He smiled down at the top of the dark-haired boy's head.  
   
They walked through the hallway and down the stairs at a quiet pace, the soft sound of their footsteps the only noise heard.  
   
Alfred turned on the light switch as they stepped into the kitchens, making Bruce blink at the sudden light before his eyes adjusted and he looked around. It was strange, seeing the commonly busy and sometimes even chaotic kitchens so quiet and empty.  
   
"Wait here, young sir. I shall get your milk."  
   
Bruce nodded even though Alfred's back was already turned as he walked toward the fridge to pull out the milk. He pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and climbed into it, placing his stuffed bear over his lap. He watched Alfred move round the kitchen, heating the milk on the stove and then pouring it into two glasses.  
   
The butler turned around, bringing the glasses to the table and sliding one of them toward Bruce. "Be careful, sir. It is quite warm."  
   
"Thanks, Alfred." Bruce hesitated a moment before placing his bear in the chair next to his, and only then did he carefully reach for the glass, cradling it between his small hands.  
   
Alfred did not sit down, instead walking back to the counter and coming back with a small plate with two chocolate chip cookies that he placed in front of the young boy.  
   
Bruce blinked down at the plate before looking at Alfred with curious hazel eyes. "I'm not supposed to eat cookies so late."  
   
"I think we can make an exception this time, Master Bruce." The butler replied as he sat down in the chair to the young boy's side.  
   
A small smile curled Bruce's lips as he reached for one of the cookies, stopping just as he was about to take a bite. He looked down at the remaining cookie before pushing the plate toward Alfred.  
   
"You can eat one if you want." Bruce said, shrugging at the look Alfred was giving him.  
   
"Thank you, young sir." The butler said after a moment, reaching for the cookie and taking a small bite.  
   
It wasn't until all that was left of the cookies were crumbs and almost half of the milk was gone from the glasses that Alfred talked again.  
   
"Master Bruce," The butler waited until Bruce meet his gaze. "Would you like to talk about the dream you had, sir?"  
   
Bruce's small frame stiffened, eyes flickering away as he shook his head in denial.  
   
"Very well, sir." Alfred murmured, noticing the small boy looking at him warily out of the corner of his eye. He, of course, would have rather the young Master had agreed to talk, even if he was not sure what he would have replied had he done so.  
   
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, the sound of their breath and the faint hum of the fridge the only noise in the kitchen. Bruce's slim shoulders relaxed little by little when no further questions or prompting to talk came from the butler until he was completely at ease, taking comfort in Alfred's silence and secure presence at his side.  
   
Alfred wasn't sure how much time had passed when the faint sound of the lock on the front door rattled briefly, drawing his attention.  
   
"I believe your parents have returned, Master Bruce."  
   
The young boy was out of his chair and running out the kitchens before Alfred even finished speaking, making the butler shake his head, smiling as the small back disappeared from sight. He stood up, taking the forgotten stuffed bear with him as he followed the young Master's steps at a more sedated pace.  
   
Alfred had not yet reached the foyer when he heard the faint sound of Mrs. Wayne's surprised voice asking her son why he was awake. He did not hear a reply from the young boy, but perhaps it had been too low.  
   
"Madam, sir." The butler greeted the couple standing in the foyer as he walked to Mrs. Wayne's side to help her out of her coat. Master Bruce was in his father's arms, his small dark head resting on Mr. Wayne' shoulder.  
   
"Alfred." Thomas greeted him with a nod, while Martha murmured a thank you, giving Alfred a consternated look; an unspoken question in the woman's eyes.  
   
The butler bowed slightly, taking the coat and draping it over his arm. "Master Bruce awoke a moment ago and was accompanying me in the kitchens. Were you not, sir?"  
   
Bruce turned his head, blinking at Alfred before nodding softly against his father's shoulder.  
   
Martha smiled, reaching out to ruffle her son's dark hair affectionately. "Well, little man. I think it's time for you to go back to bed now."  
   
"Why don't you say good night to Alfred, son?" Thomas murmured against the boy's forehead before dropping a kiss.  
   
"Night, Alfred." Bruce murmured, head lifted slightly.  
   
"Good night, Master Bruce. But I do believe you are forgetting something, sir." Alfred said, lifting the stuffed bear to the young boy's line of sight.  
   
Bruce reached for the bear immediately, hugging it to his body. Soft hazel eyes met Alfred's gaze again. "Thank you, Alfred."  
   
"You're quite welcome, young sir." The butler bowed, turning to the boy's parents. "Good night, madam, sir."  
   
The Waynes bid Alfred good night before slowly walking up the stairs together, the soft murmur of their voices as they talked to their son fading as they moved further away.  
   
Alfred stood at the bottom of the stairs until the small family was out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter marks the first apparition of Bruce's parents, and I can tell you they would be coming back in the next chapter :)
> 
> Also, thank you so much to anyone still reading! I know my updates aren't as frequent as you and myself would like, so thanks for sticking with me. I do hope to post a new chapter once a month at the very least, so stay tuned guys! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it and remember any comment, criticism or correction will be appreciated since this fic is unbetaed.


	5. unexpected visit

"It's not fair!" Master Bruce's slightly raised voice echoed from inside the Green Drawing Room just seconds before the boy came running out of the open doors. He passed Alfred without a glance back, running down the hall. The butler's eyes followed the young boy's retreating back.  
   
Alfred heard a soft sigh behind him and turned back to see Mrs. Wayne; her arms crossed over her chest as she stood just outside the room. Her green eyes clouded with sadness as she looked down the hall where her son had disappeared to. She turned to Alfred, her lips twitching downward.  
   
"I was afraid something like this was going to happen. What am I supposed to do to make it better, Alfred?"  
   
The butler bowed his head slightly. "The young Master did not take well to the most unfortunate change in today's activities, I see."  
   
"He's been looking forward to this for _weeks_ , Alfred. I can't blame him for being upset about this. I'm upset too."  
   
Alfred knew just how important today was for Master Bruce. The young lad had quietly confessed him how happy and enthusiastic he was on the promise of an upcoming family day. He needn’t say anything though. The first thing Master Bruce had done after coming from school the next day had been telling Miss Rachel about it. Everyone in the Manor had been made aware of the arrangement between Master Bruce and his father by the time dinner time came.  
   
"I should go there before Thomas let Stark's provocations get the better of him. Those two should _never_ be left alone." Martha pressed her light peach colored lips together, gaze flickering down the hall again. "Can you make sure Bruce is alright, Alfred?"  
   
"Of course, Madame."  
   
With a quiet thank you and a small smile Martha walked down the hall in the direction of the study, where Thomas and his guest were meeting.  
   
The butler waited until Mrs. Wayne turned around the corner at the end of the hall before walking in the opposite direction, following Master Bruce's steps. With the study --one of Master Bruce's preferred places to hide-- being used at the moment, Alfred headed to the library expecting to find there the young boy.  
   
One of the large chairs in the library had been rearranged to face the large windows, letting only the back of the chair visible from where Alfred stood in the doorway.  
   
"Master Bruce."  
   
"I'm here."  
   
Taking the lad's words as an invitation the butler stepped into the room, walking until he came to stand beside the chair by the windows. The young Master was sunk back in the large chair, one of his short legs crossed over the other, hazel eyes distant under furrowed brows as he looked through the windows.  
   
"You shouldn't have run off like that, Master Bruce." The butler chided gently.  
   
"I know." The boy answered softly after a moment, ducking his head. "I shouldn't have raised my voice either. I will apologize to Mother."  
   
Alfred nodded. He was pleased the young boy had realized his previous wrongdoings by himself.  
   
"It's not fair, Alfred." Bruce murmured sullenly after a moment of silence, turning his head to look up at the butler. "He _promised._ "  
   
"Yes, he did, Master Bruce. But you must also consider it would have been impossible for your father to anticipate Mr. Stark's visit today."  
   
"I know, I just-" Bruce sighed, shoulders slumping slightly. "Father has been working too much lately and when we're finally going to spend the day together even _more work_ comes up. It's not fair."  
   
"No. It is not, Master Bruce, but your parents couldn't very well refuse to receive Mr. Stark. It is not proper decorum, sir."  
   
"It was not 'proper decorum' of Mr. Stark to come unannounced too." Bruce quickly pointed out, making the butler press his lips together in an attempt to hold back the smile that was threatening to emerge.  
   
"Are you ready to go, son?" Thomas' voice carried across the room, making Bruce scramble to kneel on the large chair where he sat; half of his face hidden behind the back of the chair as he faced the doorway.  
   
Alfred turned around as well, though in a more graceful move than the young lad had. He gave the Waynes a small bow, and promptly _did not_ request Master Bruce to stand up if he wouldn't be sitting properly on the chair. The boy's thrilled reaction was understandable under the circumstances.  
   
"What?"  
   
"We've missed enough time already. Come kiddo, time to go."  
   
The boy's eyes lit up at his father's words, hands gripping the back of the chair tightly as he looked between his parents. "Really? We're going to the museum?"  
   
"That's where you want to go, isn't it?" Thomas asked with a fond smile that only grew bigger when his son all but jumped from the chair, running to him and hugging his legs. Thomas placed a hand on Bruce's head, ruffling the boy's dark locks affectionately.  
   
Bruce pulled away, small brow furrowed as he lifted a hand to brush away a strand of hair that had fallen over his forehead as he looked up at his father. "What about Mr. Stark?"  
   
"Well, I told Mr. Stark I made a promise to my son that I couldn't break, and so I couldn't stay to discuss business today. But that he could speak with Mr. Fredericks or Mr. Earl on the company and they would fill me in tomorrow."  
   
Alfred clasped his hands behind his back. He felt he was intruding upon a private moment, but with the Waynes standing in the doorway he could not leave the room quietly. The butler stood where he was, allowing the corner of his mouth to lift up in a small, private smile at the scene the small family made.  
   
With a solemn expression on his face Bruce turned to his mother, any traces of his previous smile gone. "I'm sorry, Mother."  
   
Mrs. Wayne lifted her gaze to meet Alfred's, perhaps wrongly assuming the butler had advised the young lad to apologize for his behavior. He shook his head slightly in answer.  
   
Martha bent down to place her fingers under his son's chin gently, lifting his head to look into his eyes. "It's fine dear. I understand why you acted that way. Just don't do it again. All right?"  
   
Bruce had his arms around his mother's neck before she even finished talking, nodding against her chest. When he pulled away after a moment his mother smiled down at him, cupping his cheek tenderly.  
   
Thomas looked from his wife to his son. "What did you do, son?"  
   
"I- um ..." Bruce ducked his head, scuffing his foot on the carpet. "I raised my voice when Mother was speaking to me and I ... um, I left the room without asking for permission first."  
   
"You shouldn't have acted that way. But you already know that, don't you?" His son nodded slowly, keeping his head down. "Hey, it's okay kiddo. I'm not mad at you." Thomas said gently, prompting hazel eyes to peer up at him from under unruly dark locks. "I was able to wrap things up quickly with Mr. Stark this time, but that doesn't mean that would happen every time. Sometimes things don't go the way we want them to and I need to know you understand that and will act like a big boy if something like this happen again, okay?"  
   
Bruce's eyebrows were knitted together in a deep frown. After a moment of silence he lifted his head to meet his father's eyes solemnly. Too solemn for such a small child. "I will, Father. I promise."  
   
Thomas smiled encouragingly at his son, reaching out to ruffle the boy's hair one more time. "Good. Are we ready to go then?"  
   
Bruce nodded, biting his lip slightly. Martha exchanged a tender look with her husband, placing a hand on Bruce's shoulder and squeezing it lightly.  
   
"Bye Alfred." Bruce called, turning back to the butler as his parents guide him out of the room.  
   
“I hope you have a pleasant time, Master Bruce.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is it finally chapter five. I don't have a lot to say, other than I'm sorry it took me so long to post a new chapter. You can blame the crazy plot bunnies I have to deal with and that wouldn't let me alone long enough to write a new chapter. Speaking of which, this chapter is especially dedicated to [inuvik](http://archiveofourown.org/users/inuvik/pseuds/inuvik), who gave me the kick I needed to finally finish and post a new chapter with her/his wonderful comments and encouragement :D
> 
> So, I hope you liked it, and again, this is unbetaed and I'm a non-native speaker so feel free to point out any mistake you find!


	6. grown-ups parties

Bruce had been curious for a while about the parties his parents went to sometimes. They were always very late, and so he wasn't allowed to go. Sometimes they left before his bedtime, and other times even up to thirty minutes after he was put to bed. He never fell asleep until they left, though. Or _almost_ never. Most of the time he waited for the echo of his mother's high heels walking down the hall in the stairs' direction before even closing his eyes.  
   
He had been allowed to go to small luncheons and banquets a couple of times with his mother --and sometimes with his father too-- but they were kind of boring. Except when Tommy was there with his mother too, and they could sneak away from the grown-ups to go explore around.  
   
He was pretty sure grown-ups night parties weren't the same, though. If they were boring too, why would his mother spend so long getting pretty? Not that she wasn't pretty all the time, because she was. But when his parents were going out at night his mother always got extra pretty; putting on long beautiful dresses and using the shiniest necklaces his father had given her, and sometimes even her mother's earrings too. And his dad put on his most elegant suits too, along with the small black tie Father was always complaining about. Bow tie. He had heard Alfred call it that the other day.  
   
And so he had asked Alfred about the parties, because even if he didn't go to parties like Mother and Father did, Alfred knew _everything_. And then he had asked his parents too, during breakfast the morning after they had gone to Mrs. Elliot's birthday party. They had not allowed him to go with them, even though he promised Tommy and he wouldn't cause any trouble and he even promised to go to bed early too.  
   
His parents and Alfred said the same thing; they were parties where grown-ups gathered to eat, dance, drink a little and discuss boring grown-up stuff. Bruce wasn't sure if he believed them or not. Why grown-ups liked parties so much if they were boring? It made no sense.  
   
The only way to really know the truth was _investigating._  
   
So when four months later he heard his mother and Alfred start discussing plans for an upcoming party at the Manor, he knew he had to start making plans too.  
   
When Bruce finally asked his parents, still two weeks before the date, he made sure to look like a big boy; sitting straight in the too big chair before the desk in the study; keeping his hands and feet still, like Alfred had taught him. Martha was using the chair to Bruce's right and Thomas was sitting at the other side of the desk; clasped hands resting atop it, both looking down at him with fond amusement.  
   
They told him what they always said when he asked to go with them to parties; he was too young, the party would start past his bedtime, there would be no other children and it would be boring. But he didn't back down. Thomas told him he was going to have to use a suit just like his own, with a bow tie too. Bruce had wrinkled his nose at the idea of putting on a suit. He really, really didn't like suits. They were uncomfortable and feel funny too. And not a good funny. He had bitten his lip, pausing a moment before nodding resignedly. Sacrifices had to be made if he wanted to find the truth.  
   
Even so, Bruce had begged a little, pouted more than he could ever remember doing, and even gave them his best puppy dog eyes. It all had worked and in the end, his parents had conceded, at least a little, --he had promised to stay only one hour past his bedtime-- and now Bruce stood at one side of the huge ballroom, looking with curious hazel eyes at the large crowd of people that moved around the room; talking and laughing too loud, and drinking and eating. It was ... strange. And _disappointing._  
   
There were women in long dresses walking on the arms of men in dark suits, as well as small groups of men and small groups of women talking among themselves; the older ones quietly and the others more friendly. Most seemed to be having fun, even if some of the smiles on their faces looked kinda odd. An orchestra was playing at one end of the ballroom, even if most people seemed to be ignoring the soft music.  
   
He was trying very hard not to draw attention to himself from the spot where he was observing. He was staying very still and not letting his eyes linger on anyone for too long. It wasn't too hard because most people didn't look away from the people around them, and he didn't think he had seen anyone looking down since he came to stand here.  
   
Bruce had left his parents' side after a little bit, tired of the people looking down at him with wide smiles showing many teeth and grabby hands pitching his cheeks and petting his hair. They either talked about him to his parents as if he wasn't there at all or talked to him as if he was a baby. That wasn't the worst, though. The worst was that when they asked him questions, they didn't even let him answer; they either cut him off and started gushing about how cute they though he was, making him blush and purse his lips in annoyance- he wasn't _cute!_ Or they asked something else before he finished talking. Why did they ask him questions if they didn't want to hear his answers? It was very annoying and rude.  
   
Eyebrows drawn together, Bruce looked down at the glass of sparkling cider Alfred had given him a little while ago. He didn't want to stay here anymore. Grown-ups were loud and boring, and a bit rude too. Maybe if Tommy was here they could have fun together, but he wasn't. He tried to look around the ballroom for his parents but it was hard with so many people around. It would be easier if he could climb on a chair to look, but he wasn't supposed to do that.  
   
He walked for a bit, careful to stay out of other people's way as they walked too. He had bumped against them a couple of times before and had almost fallen down. He finally found his mother, smiling a little and talking with three other women. Bruce bit his lip. He knew it was rude to interrupt grown-ups talking unless it was really, really important, even if he had seen people do it tonight. Was it okay to interrupt grown-ups talking if you were a grown-up too? He'll have to ask Alfred later.  
   
Martha shifted her gaze away from the woman before her, catching sight of her son standing a few feet away; her smile deepening and her eyes lighting up softly. Bruce smiled shyly, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen over his forehead. He made no attempt to call his mother to his side even though he knew she would come right away if he did. Instead, he turned away to look for his Father after his mother looked away. Maybe he would be less busy.  
   
He came to a stop at the same place he had been standing after walking around the whole ballroom without catching even a glimpse of his father. Bruce furrowed his brow, scanning the crowd once again from where he was standing. Nothing.  
   
He found his mother was now on the other side of the ballroom, talking with other people, one of which Bruce was almost sure Father had introduced as the Mayor.  
   
Bruce grimaced, placing his glass on a nearby table before walking slowly toward the ballroom entrance, slipping out unnoticed. He walked slowly through the hallway that would lead him to the foyer, small fingers coming up to his neck, fidgeting with his bow tie.  
   
"Master Bruce. What are you doing here by yourself?" Alfred looked at the small familiar form that came into view just as he had been about to round the corner, on his way back to the ballroom.  
   
The boy turned around, eyes lighting up softly and lips twitching in the briefest of smiles. "Oh. Hi, Alfred. I was just leaving the ballroom for a little bit."  
   
"I can see that, young sir. Was the party not what you expected?"  
   
Bruce hesitated a moment, shoulders drooping slightly as he shook his head. "No, it wasn't." Deep hazel eyes flickered around cautiously from under tousled dark brown hair, making sure there was no one close. "It's really boring and loud in there, Alfred. I don't think I like parties."  
   
The butler allowed himself a fleeting small smile. "You seem to share your parents' feelings on the matter then, sir."  
   
Gaze shifting away from the butler's keen eyes, Bruce bit his lip. "I thought Mother and Father say they didn't like parties because they wanted me to stop asking to go."  
   
"Well sir, I believe you now know that is not the case." Alfred said. "Did you inform your mother and father of your intentions before leaving the ballroom?"  
   
"I was going to but I couldn't find Father, and Mother was busy speaking with some people and I didn't want to interrupt."  
   
"Very well. I shall inform the head server so that he may relay the information to the wait staff." The young boy nodded dutifully, but Alfred still saw a trace of concern lurking in his eyes. "Your father retreated to his study with some gentlemen moments ago, young sir."  
   
Bruce shot Alfred a grateful look, lips twitching in an almost smile.  
   
"Were you on your way to your bedroom, Master Bruce?" The butler questioned after a moment of silence, even if he already knew the answer.  
   
"Uh, no." The young boy admitted sheepishly. "I thought I could go to the library for a little bit."  
   
"At this time of the night, young sir? I'm afraid that would not be possible."  
   
Alfred watched the young boy duck his head, dark brown strands of hair falling across his forehead and small fingers playing with the cuffs of his jacket. The butler pressed his lips together.  
   
"Why don't you wait in the staircase while I speak with the head server. Then I shall come escort you to your bedroom, sir."  
   
Bruce nodded resignedly. He didn't like the idea of going upstairs to his room and staying up there all by himself when there were so many _strange_ people in the Manor. That was why he had been on his way to the library instead, but now that Alfred had seen him he knew he wasn't going to let him stay down here, even if he wasn't sleepy.  
   
Alfred cleared his throat lightly. "I believe it is almost time for me to take a moment of rest. I may be able to accompany you upstairs for a moment if you have no objections, Master Bruce."  
   
"I would like that, Alfred." Bruce murmured.  
   
"Very well, young sir. I shall be back immediately." With a polite bow, Alfred turned around and walked away.  
   
Bruce lifted a hand to rub his eyes as the butler disappeared from view. He wasn't sleepy but he was kind of tired. The small boy shook his head and went to wait at the bottom of the staircase, like Alfred had told him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah. It took me forever to post a new chapter, didn't it? Sorry! Anyway, this chapter was very different from the previous ones (as I'm sure you all noticed) since I had tried not to dwell much in Bruce's POV so far because I'm not very good writing kids (kind of silly considering I chose to write a fic with kid Bruce, I know) but the idea of showing little Bruce playing detective here was too cute to pass and I couldn't resist it. I fear my Bruce might have teetered between a very young child and an older one through the fic, though. *sigh* Let me know what you think and I hope you enjoyed it anyway even if that's the case.
> 
> As always, this is unbetaed and I'm not native speaker so feel free to point out any mistake you find!
> 
> Getting a bit off topic here: Is any of you watching 'Gotham'? I've read many good things about it so I'm thinking of giving it a shot. The cute Alfred/Bruce gifs I've seen around are the ones that are closing the deal to be honest ;)


	7. halloween

Alfred walked through the hallway, coming to a stop outside young Master Bruce’s bedroom and lifting his hand to knock politely on the door. While waiting for a response, Alfred scrutinized the Oriental rug under his feet, satisfied when he found it spotless.  
   
"Alfred?" Bruce's small muffled voice carried through the thick oak door as the boy stood at the other side, looking down at the rest of his attire laid on the bed.  
   
"Yes, Master Bruce."  
   
"Um, are you alone?"  
   
Alfred blinked at the closed door. "I am. Your parents are downstairs awaiting for you, sir."  
   
It was at the young Master's request that both his mother and father where at the den while the small boy got ready on his own to go outside.

Unlike previous years, Master Bruce had gone to great lengths to keep tonight's attire a secret from his parents-as well as anyone else other than Alfred, who, at the boy's request, had been in charge of assisting him in the search and acquiring of tonight's costume. The butler hadn't seen the boy wearing the full costume yet, though, only parts of it at different moments.  
   
"Okay. You can come in."  
   
The butler slid into the bedroom silently, closing the door softly behind him before turning to look at the small boy standing by the bed. Alfred took in the askew jacket -though the small boy had buttoned every one of the several buttons in the double-breasted jacket correctly- and the clumsily arranged cape over the small shoulder. His lips twitched faintly.  
   
Bruce ducked his head, his soft blush all the way to the tips of his ears. "I think I need a little help."  
   
"You do, don't you, sir." Alfred crossed the remaining distance, reaching out a hand to straight the boy's jacket. "We must hurry to get you ready then. I was coming to inform you Miss Rachel just arrived."  
   
"She's here? What is she dressed up as?"  
   
Alfred laid a hand on Bruce's shoulder to keep the small boy still while he fixed the dark grey cape over his shoulders. "I'm afraid I was strictly forbidden from informing you of that fact, young sir. Miss Rachel wants it to be a surprise too."  
   
"Oh."  
   
With the cape and jacket now correctly in place Alfred took a step back and proceeded to handle the young boy one by one the rest of his costume's props for him to put on.  
   
Bruce slid the second glove it his left hand, looking down at his now covered hands with a furrowed brow and lips pressed together. He grasped the edge of the cape tightly in his right hand before hesitantly looking up at Alfred. He bit his lip.  
   
"Do you think it looks good, Alfred?"  
   
Alfred took in the gray pants and double-buttoned slim fit jacket, as well as the dark grey gloves and knee-length cape of the same color. The butler eyes' lingered in the pair of goggles covering the boy's eyes, and the dark fedora on his head. There would no doubt be more than one pint-sized Gray Ghost out there tonight, but Alfred was sure no one of them would be quite as perfect as the one before him.  
   
The Gray Ghost TV Show was quite popular among children, and so of course Master Bruce and he had found several costumes available from which to choose from. No one of them had fulfilled the young boy's thoughtful list of requirements after a week of looking, though.  
   
'How I'm supposed to be the Grey Ghost if I look like a little kid playing dress up in a costume that doesn't even look right?' Had been Master Bruce's exact words, delivered with a solemn expression and sharp hazel eyes looking up at Alfred. It was after the seventh rejected costume that Alfred had suggested for him to put his costume together. The young boy's hazel eyes had lighted up, giving way to a small grin that only made them shine brighter as Alfred promised to help him.  
   
Staring down at the eager look in the boy's face, the butler felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. "I believe it looks more than good, young sir."   
   
Bruce's expression wavered between pleased and relieved at Alfred's words, loosening his tight grip on the cape, letting the cloth slide from his small fingers. The smile on his face, though not as bright as the one Alfred remembered, was just as heartfelt.  
   
"It is time for you to go with your parents now, Master Bruce."  
   
"You're coming too, right?" Bruce asked, hazel eyes looking up at Alfred with apprehension.  
   
"Of course, young sir."  
   
They left the boy's bedroom and descended down the imperial staircase together, though Alfred stayed in the doorway of the den as Master Bruce went inside, walking toward the sofa where his parents were waiting.  
   
"Oh, look at yourself, sweetheart. It's perfect." Martha stood beside his husband, green eyes glistening and lips curled upward as she looked at his son. "You look charming, honey."  
   
Noticing Bruce's reaction to his mother's words last words Thomas intervened, putting a hand on her wife's shoulder. "I don't think charming is quite the right word, dear. The Gray Ghost is smart, brave and strong. Fighting evil doers and protecting people."  
   
"Well, I'm sure he is a charming man under his disguise." Martha replied offhandedly, making Thomas chuckle and Bruce smile shyly. "Now, come here my little Gray Ghost. We have to take photos."  
   
Martha was still taking photos by the time Rachel returned to the den, so the little girl came to stand beside Alfred without making much noise but with a bright smile that was drawn on her face as soon as she saw Bruce in his costume.  
   
Bruce was starting to feel restless after several photos when he caught sight of Rachel. She was wearing a pretty blue and white dress with a white blouse and shiny red slippers. Her brown hair was combed back in two braids, tied off with blue hair ribbons. She was holding a small wicker basket in her right hand. He smiled at her.  
   
"Wow, you look just like the Gray Ghost! That's so cool!"  
   
"Thank you. I like your dress. You look just like Dorothy."  
   
"Thanks! You really think so? My mom made it for me. I even have Toto here." Rachel answered, showing him the little stuffed black dog inside the basket.  
   
Martha exchanged a tender smile with Thomas, before stepping forward.  "Rachel, come here sweetie. I want a photo with you two. And I'm sure your mother would love one too."  
   
Rachel hurried into the room to come stand beside Bruce, and the two small children posed together for a couple of photos with bright smiles. Both Rachel and Bruce were eager to go trick or treating if the looks on their faces were any indication, and yet Martha didn't stop taking photos after a few shots. Thomas intervened yet again.  
   
"I think we have enough photos, dear."  
   
"Nonsense. Alfred, can you please take a picture with us."  
   
"Of course, Madame." The butler walked silently into the room, taking the camera from the woman's hands carefully.  
   
Thomas and Martha moved to stand behind Bruce and Rachel respectively, placing their hands over the children's small shoulder, smiling. Martha nodded slightly to Alfred to take the photo.  
   
"Well," Thomas started, a small teasing smile touching his lips. "If Mrs. Wayne is satisfied with the photos now we should leave already."  
   
"Wait!" Bruce called before his mother could answer, drawing his parents', as well as Rachel's attention toward him. "Can I get one with Alfred too? He was really great helping me with my costume."  
   
Startled, Alfred barely was able to suppress an undignified reaction like dropping his mouth open in shock, even if he couldn't stop his eyebrows from rising in surprise.   
   
"You should ask Alfred that, honey." Martha said, smiling tenderly down at her son and holding the camera the butler had handed her back.   
   
Bruce turned his big hazel eyes to Alfred, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Please?"   
   
"If you insist, young sir."   
   
The small boy nodded and Alfred forced himself to move toward him, keeping his eyes from meeting Mr. and Mrs. Wayne's gazes. After a moment of hesitance he came to stand behind Bruce like his parents had, hands clasped behind his back.  
   
Alfred kept his expression carefully composed, but anyone who knew him could see the soft glimmer of warmth in the depths of his dark eyes as he stood behind the small boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol! I think this is the fastest I've ever update a fic. Isn't that sad?
> 
> I know, I know. A super belated Halloween fic, but I got this prompt a few days ago and the idea started forming in my head right away, and well. I couldn't very well wait a year to post it, right? I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> For those unfamiliar with [The Gray Ghost](http://batman.wikia.com/wiki/Gray_Ghost), he is a fictional character from a TV show, and hero from Bruce's childhood.
> 
> Also, this is unbetaed so please feel free to point out any mistake.


End file.
